Kinda Addicted

I've worn dresses for four days running. I like dresses. I'd wear them all the time if I wasn't chasing children through parks and picking their crap off the floor and any of a thousand other things that make dresses an impracticality. I'm kinda addicted to dresses. I should be a Mennonite. Oh, that's right....

Quick Trip has a 69 cent 32 oz frozen Cappuccino all summer. Kinda addicted.

I drove home from the furniture store last night thinking, "I'm so glad I'm not in labor." I went to bed last night thinking, "I'm so glad I'm not in labor." I woke up this morning thinking, "I'm so glad I'm not in labor." I'm still thinking, "I'm so glad I'm not in labor." I'll be thinking it for eleven more hours, and fifty more minutes. Nine of those hours thinking, "I'm so glad I'm not in freaking transition." She was tough to bring into the world, but now, eight years later, I'm kinda addicted.

I saw a card that said, "Happy Birthday to our Little Princess." On the inside it says, "We like to say that because it makes us the King and Queen."

I resisted. Barely.